


Three : Sylvia Plath , Lady Lazarus : Dying / I Guess You Could Say I've A Call

by spilled_ink



Series: The First and The Last [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, I make the ones I love suffer the most, Movie Reference, Post-Movie(s), Sorry Not Sorry, feel for Herc, non-explicit reference to violence and death, teacup full of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_ink/pseuds/spilled_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc reflects on everything, with a little help from Mako... he mostly reflects on death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three : Sylvia Plath , Lady Lazarus : Dying / I Guess You Could Say I've A Call

Herc used to be convinced that his most vivid memory was the September 2014 attack of the Kaiju on Sydney. It was only the second attack and it was an year after K-Day and it had happened when no-one expected it, when everyone was lulled into a false sense of security. They had thought the ordeal of the Kaiju was over with Trespasser but they had been wrong on so many different counts and they had never been so wrong before. 

 

Herc himself had been unprepared… so very unprepared. Hell, the entire world had been unprepared. They weren’t ready for a fight with extraterrestrial monsters and they sure as hell weren’t ready for the mass destruction that the beasts cause wherever they decided to attack. 

 

Even now he can still remember the view from the Bell Kiowa’s cockpit as he flew over the city in the wake of the destruction that Scissure had caused. Broken buildings and rubble for homes, the streets streamed with civilians who were desperately trying to evacuate the city, he had a hard time figuring out where he was let alone if he was heading in the right direction. The city he had grown up, the one he loved with all his heart had been crushed sending its people scattering, some fleeing on foot and others attempting futile escape by car. 

 

None of them had made it far after the nuclear strike.

 

Even through the madness, the noise, the chaos, the blur of panic, Herc always had one clear objective in mind: save his family. He knew though, from the very beginning that he couldn't save both Angela and Chuck, it was either one or the other, he just didn’t have the time nor the resources…

 

His son.

 

Or his wife.

 

He had chosen his son in the end, flying to the kindergarten that Chuck was in at the time as opposed to Angela’s office. It was a decision that had killed him on the inside the very minute he made it but it was always a decision that he would stand by for many years to come. He wouldn't go back on it regardless of how the future turned out and he knew it was a decision that Angela would have understood. 

 

Herc sighs and looks up as there's a knock on the door. He takes a minute to compose his thoughts pulling his mind away from all those years ago and back to the present. It’s not exactly a step up given everything that happened but it’s not as bad as he would have thought. Herc’s eyes flickering to the brass nameplate on his desk. 

 

Marshall Hansen.

 

Angela would have been proud. 

 

Herc scoffs inwardly before raising his voice and uttering a loud "come in", faintly surprised by who's standing at the door. He tries not to show it.

 

It shows.

 

"Marshal Hansen." Mako steps inside and closes the door quietly behind her standing to attention until Herc realises that she's waiting to be invited inside, invited to take a seat. That’s how Rangers work after all, isn’t it… perfect manners drilled into them. He shakes his head with a wry smile.

 

"Take a seat Miss Mori." he gestures at the seat opposite his desk, waiting till the younger woman sits. "Was there anything specific you came to see me about?” he asks gently but even that is just a formality.

 

He knows.

 

He knows before Mako speaks that she’s here to talk about the previous Marshall, that’s why she’d ever step back into the office. Pentecost, Stacker. 

 

Stacker Pentecost.

 

“I thought we could talk but… can we?” Mako asks as her question wavers on the end, lilting up into an unidentifiable inflection. She tries, she honestly tries, to be respectful and polite and tactful but, but, but… she can’t help herself.

 

“I know you’ve lost someone important, twice over Sir-”

 

“Thrice.” Herc corrects trying to keep a smile on his face but they both know how fake it is. He knows and she knows too. He can see it in the way Mako’s shoulders fall just a little and she sits back in her seat, holding onto the plush warmth of the arm. He mimics the movement subconsciously, taking comfort in the action.

 

“Marsh-”

 

“Herc, please. I don’t feel like I’m the Marshall, at least not yet… that was always Stacker’s job.”

 

Mako just stares for a second before inclining her head in acknowledgement. The word ‘Marshall’ sits heavily on their shoulders till Herc clears his throat, clears the lump that’s forming and clears his head. Mako looks up from where she was staring at her hands.

 

“You were close to him?” Mako asks, her voice showing the first signs of strain. She’s even quieter than normal if that’s possible.

 

“We fought the first Kaiju together. We were Drift partners but more than that we were… we were friends. He was…” Herc swallows. “He was my closest friend.”

 

Mako just makes a noise that catches in the back of her throat and Herc pushes forward wanting to get the weight off his chest. He knows that Mako will feel better too, having known what Stacker was like, how good, how brave, how loyal a friend he was. 

 

So Herc tells her.

 

He tells her how Pentecost always had his back when they were still Mark-I Jaeger pilots, how he wouldn’t let anyone fight on their own. He tells her about how he always seemed to know what was best for everyone including in his decision to adopt that little girl from Tokyo, the one who lost her shoe that day and the comment gets a hiccuping laugh from Mako. He ploughs on telling her that Stacker, not Pentecost anymore, but how Stacker didn't want anyone to know about the cancer because he didn’t want anyone to worry, not when they had to save the world first, and how he always put the world first. Actually now, that’s not true, Herc backtracks, Stacker would have put the ones he loved even before that and Mako was most definitely on the list along with Tasmin and himself and, and, and, and how, and how, and how...

 

Everything. 

 

He tells her everything.

 

Herc feels like he’s been speaking only for a few minutes but it’s been an hour, the time slipping away from him just like Angela had, and Chuck had, like the way Stacker had too, in the end.

 

“He was a good friend.” Herc says finally after they’ve sat in silence for long enough.

 

“I know he was.” Mako looks up fully for the first time, her face shining with tears, some of them lingering unshed in her eye but she looks remarkably composed. She smiles a little, standing from her seat even as Herc remains seated, his eyes focused on the tips of his fingers that he’s steepled together. He hears the door open again, signalling Mako’s departure but it doesn’t close.

 

He looks up.

 

“Thank you, Herc, for letting me know.”

 

Mako leaves before he can respond and Herc smiles the smallest smile he’s ever smiled. It’s a smile that turns down into a frown as he looks away, weighed down by sadness and death and despair. He smiles again as his gaze falls back onto his nameplate that gleams in the dim light.

 

Marshall Hansen.

 

Chuck would have laughed. 

 

Chuck with the cocky attitude and the arrogance and stubbornness and stupidity. Chuck who Herc couldn’t stop seeing as a little boy all sand haired and light eyed, Chuck who he hasn’t quite let go...

 

Herc curses. 

 

He promised himself he wouldn’t think about that today but now he has.

 

Herc used to be convinced that his most vivid memory was the September 2014 attack of the Kaiju on Sydney. Now he’s convinced that his most vivid memory was when Chuck had decided to give himself for the team and took the last stand. He can still remember their eyes locking, both of them knowing that it was the end, both of the unwilling to admit it at the same time. And there had been that crap they’d exchanged in place of an ‘I love you’, the three words that Herc couldn’t bring himself to say to Chuck, not even after Angela died,  especially  after Angela died, despite wanting to say it from the very core of his being.

 

Herc sighs.

 

“I love you.” he whispers out loud thinking it for Chuck who was his only son, his legacy, his pride but also thinking it for Angela who he loved in a way he couldn’t love anyone else and a small part of him says it for Stacker who he loved like a brother.

 

It’s funny how the things he love tend to die...

 

Herc thinks, maybe, that there’s no pity for the dying, no escape from the dead.

 

Herc thinks, maybe, dying… he’s got a call.

**Author's Note:**

> Hercules Hansen is my baby and I make the character I love the most suffer the most. He's a beautiful character isn't he? I apologize if I write him OOC or if the storyline seems non-canon but I did the best I could. I really do love Herc and I promise to take care of him in future fics.


End file.
